


Heavy Machinery

by sibley (ferns)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Justice League of America (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Canonical Child Abuse, Detroit (City), Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, canon is a lie sometimes.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferns/pseuds/sibley
Summary: Nate has always looked up to his grandfather Henry Heywood, the famous Commander Steel, member of the JSA and all-around heroic guy. And who better to tell him more about the man himself than the cousin that was raised by him?





	Heavy Machinery

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline for Legends isn't really compliant with this fic, like, at all, but they ruin the timeline every other episode so I can't actually bring myself to care. Warnings for child abuse, child experimentation, very small references to past addiction issues, and references to homophobia. As always, let me know if there's anything else you think I should warn for.
> 
> Also, this makes references to a lot of things that DCTV's/Legends' canon outright ignored, including but not limited to Nate's prosthetic leg, Hank's entire existence, Henry being a monster, the city of Detroit, and Dale Gunn.

If there was one solid, rock-hard, undeniable truth that Nate Heywood knew, it was that his grandfather was a hero. Not just as Commander Steel, but in his everyday life. His parents always spoke about him with the kind of conviction that you would use to talk about some celebrity in your family tree, one who could do no wrong.

But despite meeting him more than once, and somehow gaining what at least felt like some approval from him, Nate still didn’t really feel like he knew him at all. Yes, he’d heard stories, both from his father and from Amaya, but that didn’t mean that he actually truly knew the guy.

Luckily, Nate knew of someone who did. Well, someone who  _had._

Amaya accompanied him, after helping him find his prosthetic leg in the massive pile of stuff in his room, letting him hold her hand as they walked through the streets of Detroit. She was busy looking for someone else entirely, as it wouldn’t be a great thing for the timeline they were trying to protect if her granddaughter saw her here, but Henry Heywood Sr. had meant a lot to her, too, and she felt as if she owed it to him to understand him better.

They stopped outside of an auto repair shop, looking up at the faded sign hanging over it that said _Heywood Repair Shop,_ and then to the neon sign that read ‘OPEN’ in bright red letters hanging in the window. Amaya smiled a little bit to herself. She could _never_ see Henry opening a place like this, but… Family members were different than yourself.

Nate pushed open the door, which let out a small, cheerful chime, and waited with his hands in his pockets as someone bustled around in one of the back rooms, accidentally knocking things over and hissing swear words under their breath before walking out. “Sorry about that, what can I-Nate?”

Hank Heywood looked, well, _different_ from the last time Nate had seen him. Somehow he had gotten even taller, which meant that he was now officially _huge._ Apparently he had started dyeing his fluffy hair orangey red, but Hank could see the black roots coming in. A handful of freckles had popped up on his brown skin, mostly across his nose, and his unusual bright blue eyes were filled with wariness. He squeezed the dirty rag tighter in his hands and looked away when Nate accidentally made eye contact.

“Hey, Hank.” Nate tried to smile but it fell a little flat. Amaya squeezed his hand tighter. “Long time no see. This is my…” Oh, this was going to hurt. “This is my _friend,_ Amaya. We were in the area and we decided to stop by because I… Well, I wanted to talk to you about Grandpa Henry. And I figured that you were the best person to ask.”

Hank’s expression harded. “Sure. Let me just call my dads and tell them I won’t be home for a little while-you guys are gonna be my last ‘customers’.” He turned off the neon OPEN sign. “Follow me to the back room.”

The front of Hank’s place was run down and kind of dirty, the sort of thing you would expect from a tucked-away repair shop on a random Detroit street corner. But as soon as Hank took them through the door, the grime transformed into state-of-the-art technology, and it turned out that when Amaya and Nate had arrived he’d been working on something that looked _suspiciously_ like an honest-to-god hoverbike.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” Nate marveled, trying very hard to swallow his excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like it before, except…” Except for in the future. Which is where all of this looks like it belongs. “Did you build all of this? You need to tell me _everything._ I’ve got a friend who would _love_ to take a look at all of this.”

“It’s kind of classified,” Hank said softly, squeezing his hands into embarrassed fists as his cheeks turned red. He couldn’t quite hide the pride in his voice when he said, “I mostly do work for the people who work with my dads. Oh, and of course I do stuff for my dads, but I don’t charge them for it. But the, um, company that they work for pays really well, and I needed to have the right equipment to fix up whatever it is they’re bringing me this time…”

“This is incredible,” Amaya agreed softly, eyes wide. Nate realized that despite all of the futuristic things she had seen both while traveling to different periods in time and while on the Waverider itself, some things were always going to be a shock when she saw them, and technological advancements were one of them. “You must be very proud of what you do.”

Hank opened another door and ducked his head down into his shoulders, smiling wide at Amaya. Nate felt a little bit of jealousy stirring inside of him, but quickly tried to squish it down. He and Amaya were friends, nothing more. Things hadn’t worked out between them, and honestly, they never would. Besides, Hank was gay, wasn’t he? His jealousy just didn’t know what it was doing.

“Here, you two can sit down right there.” Hank gestured to a couch and sat down across from it in a comfortable looking chair. A little awkwardly, Amaya and Nate sat down on the couch, trying to figure out where to sit in relation to each other so that it wouldn’t be awkward. Hank tapped the mini fridge next to him with his knuckles. “Can I get you anything to drink? All I have is soda, but there’s some variety in there.”

“No thank you,” Amaya answered for both of them, leaning forward a little and folding her hands in her lap. “Do you think we could ask our questions now? I, ah, knew your grandfather, somewhat, but I’m still not sure if I _really_ knew him.” Out of all the members of the JSA, she’d been the least close to Henry. “Nate tells me that you were raised by him, which means you probably know him better than anybody else alive right now.”

Hank nodded slowly. That guarded expression was back on his face. “He raised me after my dad was killed. My other dad-Dale-couldn’t get custody, but Henry let me see him sometimes. He always promised that one day I’d get to live with him and be away from Henry.”

“Why did he want to take you away from Grandpa?” Nate felt a sudden rush of resentment toward whoever this ‘Dale’ guy was. Henry was a great person. He was a hero. Henry was the best member of the Heywood family that there had ever been. No way could Nate or Hank compete, much less _Dale._

Hank lowered his gaze to the floor and dug his knuckles into his knee tightly. Nate realized that he was subconsciously doing the same on his prosthetic leg. Some sort of shared Heywood family nervous gesture. “Because-” Hank swallowed. “Because he knew, way before I did, that he was an awful person. That he was no hero.”

Nate opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Amaya rested her hand on his arm. Her face was unreadable, but Nate knew her well enough by now to know that her entire body was tense and apprehensive. “Could you explain that for us? Please?”

Hank swallowed. “When I was… I dunno, twelve, or thirteen, or so, Henry stopped letting Dale see me. He told me that he couldn’t condone Dale’s lifestyle for any longer-Nate, I don’t know if you knew, but the man was so far right he had almost completed the full circle-and that he didn’t want him to continue influencing me. I don’t know if he chose that age because I was hitting puberty or because he realized he couldn’t put it off any longer because of how old he was getting, but…”

Hank bowed his head and hunched his shoulders and took a few deep breaths, kneading his knuckles further into his thighs. It was strange how someone so big could make themselves look so _small._ Nate still didn’t dare say anything, though, waiting for his cousin’s story to finish with something small. Of course it was shitty to grow up around a homophobe, Nate knew that, but… Henry was a hero. He _was._

“I don’t remember most of it. I blocked it out, I think,” Hank said quietly. “But I remember the day the surgeries started. Henry, he… He wanted someone to carry on the Steel legacy, you know? He wanted-he wanted to make _sure_ there would be a new Steel. So he decided to make one. He-he told me that it was for my own good. That he was going to make me perfect. But the pain…”

Amaya made a small shocked sound, and Nate could feel her trembling beside him. Nate himself found that he was slowly shaking his head with disbelief. Hank-Henry wouldn’t have-Hank must have had something _else_ happen, something that he _thought_ was Henry’s fault but _wasn’t,_ because Henry was a _hero,_ he _was,_ he was the first Heywood who had ever meant something, and Nate loved him, and-

“I’m so, so sorry,” Amaya murmured, looking like she was fighting the urge to walk over and take Hank’s hand. “I knew Henry… I wouldn’t say well. But I knew him. It’s complicated, but I knew him when he was young. We were friends, to an extent, but we did fight sometimes. If I had known, back then, what he would do to you, I…”

“You believe him?” Nate almost regrets it from the way both of their heads snap around to look at him. Amaya looks like she’s trying hard not to slap him. Hank looks _pissed._ “Amaya, I think we should leave. This was obviously a mistake.”

Two seconds later, Hank’s chair is bouncing off the door, and Nate finds his cousin’s face only about ten inches away from his own.

“You’re not going anywhere, Nathaniel,” Hank grits out. “Amaya, you can leave if you’d like to, I won’t keep you here. And I promise I’m not going to hurt my cousin. I’m just going to make him _listen to me._ Do you know how much I _wish_ I was lying, Nate? Do you know how much I hate every second, how much every movement _hurts_ for me?”

He stepped back and started pacing in front of them in the small space. Nate got ready to fight his way out of there-of course he wouldn’t seriously hurt Hank, but the guy seemed a _little_ unstable, and he was massive, and… Well… Nate didn’t really trust him. Amaya grabbed him and kept him firmly in place on the couch, though, hissing under his breath that she wanted to hear this, which meant that he was going to _stay put_ and _listen._

“He put metal inside of me, Nate,” Hank said hoarsely. “He put sensors in my brain-I can see your heartbeat increasing right now. He put motors in me. I’m not-I’m not even human anymore, sometimes. And it _hurts._ It hurts _so_ badly, Nate. I know you know how that feels. When nobody believes that you’re suffering and the pain just keeps getting worse and you know that you would do anything just to get it to stop, even for a second. I was a _kid_ and I couldn’t stop him. I was just a scared kid.”

“I know how that feels,” Nate managed. “I-I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you. Honest, Hank. I really-I-” He swallowed. “I’m sorry. I think you need to calm down, Hank.”

Hank sat down on the floor. “Anger issues,” he supplied, hugging his knees. “It’s-it’s stupid. _I’m_ stupid. It was years ago. It was so many years ago that it shouldn’t even matter but every time someone asks me what it was like being the grandson of Henry Heywood, all I want to do is scream at them about how much he hurt me. I guess-I guess because you’re family, and you were his friend-time travel?-it all just came out.”

Amaya twitched when he mentioned time travel, eyes going wide and hand gripping onto Nate’s tight enough to hurt from the sudden rush of worry. Nate swallowed again. His leg ached a little bit. “Hank?”

Hank looked at him, wiping at his red-rimmed eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I just-” Nate looked down. He shouldn’t have come here. This had been a mistake. _(But aren’t you glad you know now?_ A voice at the back of his head hissed. Nate tried to ignore it.) In a tiny voice, he said, “He was my hero, you know?”

Hank looked down. “He was mine, too.”

There was a long silence, before Amaya softly cleared her throat. “You mentioned something about time travel… If that were the case, I would prefer, hypothetically, for you not to mention anything about it to anybody else.”

“Of course,” Hank agreed. “Don’t worry. I only figured it out because of my dad’s job. He works for a pretty high-profile government agency. You’ve probably heard of it. They monitor activity moving in and out of our dimension, but they also get temporal signatures.” He smiled, and for a moment Nate could see the boy he might’ve been if he hadn’t grown up with Henry underneath all the anger. “Your hypothetical secret’s safe with me.”

Not really knowing what else to do, Nate stood up, offering a hand up to Amaya, which she didn’t take. Instead, she crossed the room and gave Hank a hug, whispering something in his cousin’s ear that Nate couldn’t really make out. Whatever it was, it made Hank carefully squeeze her tighter before letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Nate repeated as they left, back in the grimy front of the repair shop. Hank had done an excellent job disguising the back rooms. Even though he’d been back there, he still couldn’t really convince himself that all of that fantastical tech had been really there. Or even conceived of in this century.

“It’s okay.” Hank looked older than he was, in the illumination from the street mixed with the lighting coming through from the back room they had just gone through. “I wouldn’t have believed me either. And I can tell that you still kind of don’t. I’m sorry I snapped like that.”

“I don’t blame you. Really.” Nate was a little surprised to find that he was actually telling the truth.

Amaya dipped her head. “I don’t either. Perhaps one day I’ll meet your grandfather again, Hank, and be able to give him the piece of my mind I should have years ago.”

Hank laughed, loud and deep and full. “I’d pay to see that. It was nice to meet you, Amaya.” He shook her hand, careful not to crush her fingers. “Good luck.”

Amaya looked back and forth between Nate and Hank for a moment before sighing and opening the door. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment. Nate, meet me outside when you’re done.”

Nate swallowed. “...Good luck to you too, Hank. I hope someday it feels better. I hope-I hope that someday it stops hurting.”

Nate found himself getting pulled into a brief but warm and tight hug by his cousin. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, Nate,” Hank said softly when he released him, stepping back and shoving one of his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “You know, you’re the first member of grandpa’s part of the family to visit in years?”

Nate’s throat suddenly felt tight. “...I’ll be back soon. I promise. You can show me around Detroit, or I can take you to Central or Star City, or maybe Coast, if you like the sun, or-I don’t know. I want to know more about Grandpa. About Henry. I want you to tell me about everything he did to you. I want to know what _really_ happened, Hank. I’m a historian. It’ll be like learning history. If you like.”

“Yeah,” Hank said softly, letting out a little hiccuping laugh that sounded a little bit too much like a sob. “I’d like that a lot, actually. See you around, Nate.”

Nate smiled at him, a little too watery for comfort, and then went to join Amaya outside, where she was shivering in the twilight air. Come to think of it, Nate was more than a little bit chilly himself. Sara had _said_ they would probably need coats, hadn’t she? Oh well.

Amaya took his hand again, and they began the long walk back to the Waverider. Hank watched them go until their vital signs mixed with the dozens of other people nearby, and they become completely lost in the crowd.

Hank took out his phone and dialed a familiar number, smiling when the person on the other side picked up. He didn’t even wait for a greeting before saying, “Cisco, you’re never gonna believe who came to visit me today…”

Once on the Waverider, Nate stretched out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a little frown. He believed Hank. He did. He really did. It was just hard to reconcile the image of his grandfather as a famous war hero who could do no wrong with how genuinely frightened Hank had looked while describing how their grandfather had turned him into something part machinery.

As much as Nate wanted to relate, he couldn’t. Yes, he had his prosthetic leg (and still used his crutches from time to time), but that was _hardly_ the same thing as being… Well, whatever it was that Hank was. Cybernetically enhanced. Made to be a living weapon. Created to be a successor to a legacy that Hank clearly hated.

The more Nate thought about it, the more angry he got. He and Hank weren’t exactly close, and less than an hour ago Hank had been yelling at him and trying to get Nate to believe at least _some_ of the things that he was saying, which Nate now certainly did, but all he could feel was anger and sympathy. Anger with Henry Heywood, for leaving behind the kind of legacy that kids looked up to and aspired to instead of that of a child abusing monster. And sympathy with Hank, for having to deal with that.

Nate had never _really_ written a book. He’d tried once or twice to do so in elementary school, done some historical essays here and there of course, and _sometimes_ when he felt like it he tried his hand at Star Trek fanfiction, but maybe now would be the time to actually try. If Hank said yes, of course.

Wouldn’t that be something. A book about Henry Heywood Sr, the famous Commander Steel, written by someone who had idolized him and someone who had respected him. By the grandsons who had grown up with two completely conflicting views of him. Yes. That would be amazing.

If there was one solid, rock-hard, undeniable truth that Nate Heywood knew, it was that his grandfather wasn't the hero everyone thought he was, and one day, hopefully soon, he was going to show that to the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm danteramon on tumblr and I love Hank Heywood.


End file.
